


Monster and the Beast

by ImLostOnTheInternet



Category: Underfell - Fandom, Undertale
Genre: Angst, Banter during fight scenes, Emotional garbage, Fight Scenes, Fluff, I want my boys to be happy, I'mma Be Real With Ya Chief, Like...A Long Minute, Reader-Insert, Slow Burn, So Hang On Tight This May Take A Hot Minute, Switching Perspective, multiple perspective
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-04-26
Updated: 2019-08-21
Packaged: 2020-02-04 11:42:07
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 10,379
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18603820
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ImLostOnTheInternet/pseuds/ImLostOnTheInternet
Summary: After escaping the hellscape that is the underground, Papyrus and Sans Serif find themselves on the surface with the little human Frisk. Now entering a world where monsters are unfamiliar, the trio encounters many challenges. Along the way they meet some new faces, some of which are more than just strangers. With endless possibilities, what will become of the skeleton brothers and their human companion as they face each new day blindly with only their wits to help them? Will new emotions surface? Will the past be uncovered? Only time can tell.





	1. Does rambling at night make you a Luna-tic?

**Author's Note:**

> Edit: I have gone back through and cleaned up most mistakes here and there in hopes of creating a better reading experience for those reading
> 
> If you are interested in updates for when I post, feel free to follow my tumblr:
> 
> https://www.tumblr.com/blog/imlostontheinternet

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Papyrus is up and awake late at night and worries about his human companion. He may or may not be coming up with a plan to help them out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> June 26 Edit: I'm going back and fixing some grammatical errors and tenses to help the story flow a bit better. Apologies for the inconvenience.

      The moon’s rays of light sneak into the partially covered window carefully, snail-like in their pace. A soft ivory beam reflects off the carpeted floor, filling the room with a gentle glow. Not that there was anyone to see it, t he room’s owner had long since been awake. Too restless to stay still, he left the small room to venture around the rest of the apartment. The clack of bare bone on tile fills the quiet space as their owner paces around non-stop.

 

      When the clacking stops, it only begins vigorously again, though this time in a single spot. The source of the tapping couldn’t shake the nervous buzz coming over him, something akin to when a fight was about to break out.

 

      Oh, how much easier it would be if this was a fight instead. Being prepared for almost any possible situation was ingrained in his very being. Like a switch, he could fire any series of movements and attacks to be done with the confrontation. At that point the antsy feeling could leave as quickly as it had come upon him.

 

      But alas, sporadic feelings aren't exactly his forte. He stills his tapping foot and heads toward the small living area, adorned with a simple green sofa, t.v. with stand, and bookshelf. Perhaps reading could help still his shot nerves, but after picking up and replacing nine different books he huffs in defeat, glancing around the space.

 

      The room is reminiscent of his cabin underground, yet it holds no warmth for him. At least underground, that cabin was his _home_. A safe haven from the violence around him, something permanent and constant. This apartment is temporary, though. Temporary, at least, until the human government decides that monsters can “live among humans peacefully”. He scoffs at the wording the human ambassador had used. “Living peacefully” as if they weren’t met with brute force the second they left that damned mountain. Luckily for them, the little human Frisk was there to step in as the “Ambassador of Monsters”.

 

      What an ironic title; a human standing up for monster kind when humans themselves were the ones to blame for their imprisonment. Not that anyone else but Frisk could fill the position; no one would have the guts to stand up against the _menacing_ race of monsters.

 

      A small picture sits on one of the emptier shelves of the bookcase, next to some smaller trinkets and knick-knacks collected through the years. A clawed hand cradles the frame before lifting it to eye level. In the picture three figures are depicted, all with smiles of varying degrees. His older brother Sans is situated in the leftmost part of the frame. His ever permanent smile is more relaxed, one he only has the pleasure of seeing in the confines of that shared cabin. Next to him is little Frisk, smile spanning their face showcasing a missing front tooth. His other clawed hand lightly ghosts over the photo as he remembers how Frisk had tripped over their own boots and face planted on the ice puzzle outside Snowdin, causing the tooth to fly out. The memory makes a small smirk spread on his jaw before going slack again. Moving to the last figure, he sees himself with his fangs showcased brightly towards the camera. While he prided himself on keeping up an excellent façade, he couldn't remember a time when he let himself be so . . . calm.

 

      As he sits on the sofa, leg bouncing madly, he looks up from the picture to the ceiling, paint ever peeling. _Where did those smiles go?_ He finds himself asking this query a lot. From the time monsters broke out to the surface, an air of unease seems to have permanently settled over Frisk. Every embrace they give seem to linger longer than normal. They cling on tighter and want to spend more time with monsters they are acquainted with. Sans picked up on this odd behavior and voiced his findings to him after Frisk had gone to bed that first week.

 

* * *

 

      “something's not right with the kid, paps. they’ve been more jumpy than usual.” Sans had shifted at the table, looking towards the room where Frisk was fast asleep before continuing onward. “just keep an eye socket on em’. just in case.”

 

      So of course he did, and sure enough he noticed how drastically Frisk’s demeanor was changing. It was almost ridiculous at how often they would be in physical contact with someone: hand holding, hugs, even just leaning against another person. This didn’t raise too much attention, in fact a lot of monsters were happy to be interacting with the “Guardian Angel” of the underground. What was concerning was Frisk’s interactions with fellow humans.

 

      Any time a government-looking official would approach them, Frisk would shrink down and tremble while attempting to look relaxed and calm and answer any inquiries towards them. When a guard moved too fast, they flinched so hard it was like they got shocked by electricity. Every little noise made them jump ten times higher than they normally would, quite impressive if it weren’t for the reason of such a reaction.

 

      He noticed Frisk was like a scared animal; aware that a predator was going to pounce at any moment, so all senses were heightened to prepare them as best they could for the inevitable attack. After the fourth jumping incident, others began to take notice. When confronted about it by anyone, humans and monsters alike, Frisk would simply say it was the stress from becoming the Monster Ambassador getting to them. This sedated most individuals who, upon hearing the information, offered up words of encouragement or different techniques to relieve stress. Frisk accepted the feedback with a tight smile, one that was so practiced it was indiscernible.

 

      He wondered what was bothering them and tried to deter too many outsiders from coming into Frisk’s personal bubble, but left the issue alone for the moment. If it was anything serious, surely they would come to either him or his brother about it?

 

      And they did, eventually.

 

      One night, Thursday if he recalled correctly, he got the answer to his unspoken question. Up yet again at an unholy hour idly picking at loose strings on his pajama bottoms, he snipped it away with ease after the task became tiresome. Laying down on the sofa, his much too long legs hanging over the arms, a ball of stress was festering in his ribs. He hated not feeling in control, especially when his little friend was involved. But little did he know he would get more than he bargained for.

 

      Frisk had waited until Sans had gone into his room for the night before making an appearance.

 

      “Papyrus?” He turned his head toward the small hallway that led to the two bedrooms and saw a disheveled Frisk wrapped up in a bundle of comforters. They sleepily rubbed one eye while trying to pull up the much too big sleep shirt back on their shoulders. Plodding over the sofa, they sat on the edge while pointedly avoiding eye contact. A heavy silence filled the air before Papyrus finally sat up, extending his hands slowly. It was a simple invitation for an embrace, if wanted, but not forced.

 

      Sure enough, Frisk dove into his embrace, nuzzling into his chest. They pulled the comforter up over their shoulders, effectively covering them both. Papyrus began idly combing through their tousled hair, pulling the small human closer to him. He was used to comforting the small human in this way, the repetitive motion something to focus on and induce relaxation. However, Frisk broke the silence with their sniffles and a sudden stream of words came pouring out of their mouth.

 

 

 “Papy, I’m scared. I-I don’t wanna go back, please don’t make me. _I don’t wanna leave you please don’t make me leave! They’re gonna take me away from you, I’mscared,they’remeananddon’tlovemeIdon’twannagoback **P**_ ** _apyruspleaseletmestay_ ** _-”_

 

 

      As the rambling became incomprehensible, their grip had become a vice around Papyrus’ middle. The outburst made Papyrus freeze, he was shocked at what he could discern from the flow of babbles. He tried to pull them away, but in vain. Seeing as there was no way of prying Frisk away, instead he simply began rubbing small circles into their back as softly as he could, just enough to be an anchor to them but not enough to overwhelm. Slowly, the rambles died down and the heaving body in his lap was only shaken by the occasional hiccup. Papyrus spoke as quietly as his boisterous voice would allow him in that moment.

 

      “ **We would never make you leave. You belong to the Serif household, dear Frisk, so there is no need to be upset.** ” With another sniffle, Frisk looked up at his face with a teary expression and asked him to promise them that.

 

      “ **I promise.** ” That seemed answer enough for Frisk, who then promptly plopped their head against his chest, snuggling closer before nodding off to sleep. Papyrus simply stared into nothing while holding onto Frisk’s sleeping form that night, trying to process what the hell just happened.

 

* * *

 

      Coming back to the present, Papyrus thinks about how it never occurred to him that the literal ray of sunshine in his life would have some of those same demons he had, or what seems similar. Not wanting to be alone, afraid of betrayal, he 's all too familiar with those fears. While his acting skills are superb, he is just another monster trying to get by in a seemingly hopeless world. He thought coming to the surface would help get rid of these fears, but it only seems to have amplify them. Papyrus had hoped that after the late night emotion-fest that Frisk let out, the human would be more open. But, if anything, it seems to have made them ten times more cautious around the skeleton brothers. Standing with a sigh, he places the photo back on the shelf. Glancing at it once more, he has a thought.

 

 _Maybe his social skills weren’t the best, but Sans always seems to know what's the matter with people._ And then it finally clicks in his head.

 

      Of course! How could he have forgotten? Sans brought up the issue in the first place, and with this information aiding in solving Frisk’s woes the two brothers could easily figure out what was bothering their companion!

 

     Padding over to the second bedroom in the hallway, he carefully opens the door and peers inside. Through the mess of limbs and blankets, he can make out the definite shapes of his brother and Frisk in a pile of blankets. Frisk’s face is squished against San’s ribs while all of their limbs seem to be completely wrapped around his middle. Sans is currently star-fishing the best he can with a human encasing him in an embrace. Drool drips down his jawbone and pools besides his head on the mattress, right above where Frisk's head lays.

 

       The sight was enough to make Papyrus consider joining them, but he shakes his head at the thought. He wasn’t a baby-bones anymore and could handle sleeping alone. Besides, Frisk needs equal time with both of the skeleton brothers if his plan is going to work.

 

      Using some magic, Papyrus lifts up the various blankets with a soft red glow and recovers the two before closing the door again. With a huff, he stretches his back and yawns. Shooting the mostly barren living space in front of him a glare, he heads back toward his own room.

 

      He hates this small apartment. As soon as he possibly can, he’s getting out of here with Sans and Frisk. Laying down under his covers with a frown etched onto his skull, he closes his eyes. Frisk wouldn't be taken away from him, he is sure of it, even if it is the last thing he ever does. The last thing he recalls before falling away to the nothingness is that he wants to see the sunrise with Frisk for many times to come.

 


	2. Birches Be Trippin'

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You are chilling in a field while internally monologuing. You reminisce about how you have come to gain your "special abilities."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> To clarify, Nibling refers to the child of one's sibling or of one's sibling-in-law (in other words, one's niece or nephew). This is typically used in the plural sense or as a gender-neutral term.
> 
> I use this for Frisk, so I hope this clears things up.
> 
> School has gotten the slightest bit better, so I may have more time to focus on writing.
> 
> I'm trying out the switching perspectives to help with story building, I hope ya'll don't mind an unnecessary amount of details.

     No one in their right mind should be up this early. The moon is shining down, a waning crescent to be precise. There is just enough light to fill the field with a sort of heavenly glow, mysterious and dancing between the wildflowers. Birch and oak trees sway to their silent rhythm while the breeze flits through the expansive blanket of leaves. The weather is still a bit chilly, as the switch from spring to summer weather is apparent. However, it doesn’t reach you. The cold never seems to bother you like it does most normal people, anyway.

 

     Far away, wind chimes dance in the breeze peaking your senses. At your guess they were roughly four miles Northeast. That would be the general location of the ranger’s station, given the tambour of their tone. You really need to pay them a visit to explain your return, but that would have to wait till later. Even so, there is no need to go spook the humans at witching hour. Stretching, the grass tickls your bare feet as you shift to your side, looking over the forest from the hilltop.

 

     The tree tops flow as if they were made of water, bending and twisting in the valley below. Many buds and sprouts are coming into bloom across the landscape and it fills you with a sense of familiarity. Oh, how long has it been since you've came back to your forest and weren’t just another set of eyes and ears to act as look out? As expected, all of your senses seemed to heighten when you were back in your own territory. Those little perks of having claimed a spot of land are very helpful in chasing out undesirable strangers who encroach on your safe haven. It's comfortable and familiar, though calling it safe would be a stretch as nowhere is truly safe in the wilderness. Perhaps that’s why you like it so much. Even before being "turned", the primal urges within you to run, cause mischief, and have fun would always lead you to where others were too scared to tread.

 

     That is your downfall, you suppose. One small misstep sent you careening into a fate you could never imagine all those years ago. Not that you blame your twelve-year-old self, oh no. If anything, that little gremlin would have jumped willingly if they knew what fun was to be had with your current abilities.

 

     Though, you have to admit, there are many things that are not fun that come with your super heightened senses. While you can mostly control it now, you remember those first few years adjusting to _the beast_ , as you so-called them. A ravenous beast from legends that would kill livestock and stranded hikers at the drop of a hat. Waking up with blood from who knows where, naked and disoriented in unknown locations was probably the hardest take away from your changing body. All teenagers bodies went through changes, but you don’t think they meant it in the literal sense like yours did. It took a long time with a lot of **bravery** and self-discipline, but you managed to have _the beast_ under control.

 

     For the most part.

 

     Granted, a full moon will occasionally force you into changing, but if you are changed beforehand then it wasn’t too difficult to break out from _the beast._

 

     You sit up and twirl a blade of grass between your fingertips, squeezing out the dew while deep in thought. The nickname wasn’t even your idea, it came from your little nibling when they had figured out your secret. Unsurprising, it stuck. Most things your nibling did seem to stick with you. They are always so **determined** and you have to give them props for their spunky spirit. A smile creeps onto your face while the memory fills your mind, but it drops just as quickly as it had come when your other hand brushes the side of a worn envelope. Turning, you eye the small paper casing warily before carefully picking it up. This small envelope has caused you so much grief over the past year, you wonder if you should have even opened it in the first place.

 

     About 6 months ago, the government sent you this letter stating that your little nibling had disappeared. There were no leads, no bodies discovered, no traces of anything besides a worn down stuffed rabbit left on the side of Mt. Ebott. They were asking for you to come in and “find them using your unique set of skills” as the letter had stated. You had tried finding them on your own, but their scent had disappeared long before you began searching. This left two possibilities.

 

     They were dead. This was improbable because even dead bodies leave a scent behind. That left the last option: they were surrounded by a magical object so powerful that it was preventing the scent from penetrating. Such power to mask a scent like your niblings would require a lot of mages in one place. However, mages weren’t common nowadays and it was forbidden to have a large gathering without informing the council. That much magical disturbance would be felt by all creatures.

 

     Luckily for you, the monsters breaking the barrier had set of such a large amount of magic, it had pulled your soul towards your home town of Ebott. The magic residue from the barrier shattering had dissipated for the most part, but it was still extremely poignant all round the city. Even now you can feel the slight buzz of magic flowing in the earth beneath your body. It was strange having such a strong sense of the magic around you, although it was very helpful in retracing your niblings scent.

 

     Now all that was left was to finally track it down. It's simple really, all you have to do is wait until morning and head on over. Does it seem really sketchy? Yes. Was that going to stop you? Hell nah, that’s your darling baby in there and nothing is going stop you from seeing them. With new felt confidence, you tuck the letter back into your pocket before adjusting into a more comfortable position on the grass. The black sky is slowly shifting to lighter blue hues toward the Eastern skies. With a huff, you state aloud:

 

     “I’m coming for ya Frisky, even if it kills me.”

 

     Before settling in for the long shift from dusk to dawn, you wonder if Frisk is watching the same sunrise as you are.

  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the length here, but I didn't want to overload you guys juuust yet.
> 
> If you are interested in updates for when I post, feel free to follow my tumblr:
> 
> https://www.tumblr.com/blog/imlostontheinternet
> 
> \---------
> 
> Thank you for stopping by! Feel free to leave a comment if you have any feedback or questions for me, I will reply as soon as humanly possible.


	3. These Puns are Just Waffle, Aren't They?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Papyrus makes breakfast for his lazy companions. His plan is set into motion. . .but not in the way he thought it would be.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apologies for the length, but I don't wanna leave you guys hanging without anything. Do be patient with me, I promise they'll get longer soon.

       The switch from cool moonlight to the warm sunshine is what throws Papyrus off when he opens his eye sockets. In a tangle of sheets, he sits up awkwardly as he pushes the sheets to the ground where his pillow was thrown in his sleep. The small, beat up alarm clock on his dresser reads:

 

**9:23 AM**

 

       Odd. Running a clawed hand down his skull, Papyrus stands up from the nest of blankets and sets to getting dressed. As he puts on an old battered t-shirt and jeans, he is taken aback. He honestly can't remember a time where he has slept in past 5 in the morning. It has proven hard to shake off the grueling training ingrained in his being, but he guesses it might have something to do with him stressing over his human friend. But, first-things-first, he needs to set to work on his plan to get Frisk to spill the beans.

 

       He leaves his room, closing the door behind him, before walking down to the kitchen. Even at this ungodly late hour, it would seem his companions are still fast asleep. On any regular day he would be lifting up the mattress, flinging both of them to the ground before nagging them on their tardiness. However, the last thing the younger skeleton wants is for him to have two very pissed off midgets on his plate. He has enough to deal with and doesn't know how many more saran wrap door traps he can take.

 

       Being tall is a blessing and a curse, seeing as his line of sight would never be directly looking where his feet were going. Let's just say his elbows, ulna, and radius bones weren't too happy to be meeting with the carpeted floor so often. Though Papyrus would never admit it, he actually enjoys the pranks that Sans and Frisk would pull...to a point. What really makes him able to tolerate the tomfoolery he lives in is the sheer look of bliss and joy on their faces anytime a trap would successfully ensnare him.

 

      And Phase One of his plan involved continuing that state of bliss. So, putting on an apron that Sans got him with "Sorry...you're opinion wasn't in the recipe!" written on it, he sets to work crafting a bliss inducing breakfast.

 

     During his 3 months above ground so far, there have been a lot of adjusting to do on monster kind's part. The first was actually learning how to cook properly. Sure, his cooking was  _decent_ at times, but he knew that obliterating tomatoes with your fist probably wasn't the right way to go about making pasta sauce. So, with a lot of convincing and pushing on his part, the Serif family was given a collection of cook books in with their monthly rations.

 

       There was _a lot_ of stung pride and resentment those first few weeks, but being the bigger monster Papyrus bore through it with _very little_ grumbling. If you look at his cooking skills now, it's obvious he has put some care into relearning the craft. It makes him feel better, knowing he can at least improve cooking while they were stuck in the Monster District for _Stars knows_ how long.

 

       It is also obvious how much his skills have improved by his companions slowly becoming more and more eager to try his dishes. Initially, it had been to humor him, though no such thing was ever stated aloud. . . But, slowly but surely, the strained smiles turned more relaxed as they sampled his platter further into his cooking journey. Papyrus can honestly say the looks he received were quite content at his cooking attempts.

 

       Coming back to the present, he hears a door open with a small  _creeeeeek_ and the pitter-patter of small feet nearing the kitchen makes him turn. Frisk's mop they called hair is as messy as a Froggit nest as they pull out a chair from the small table they shared. They then promptly drag the chair over to Papyrus's side, using it to get up to the sink to wash their hands. While it wasn't nearly as tall as the one back home, Frisk is still a shortie in comparison to the monster-sized accommodations made to the apartments. That's one thing Papyrus could thank the dumb human government for was them making the ceilings another five feet taller.

 

       With clean hands, they then drag the chair over to the counter where a knife and some strawberries lay. Setting to work, Frisk begins to slice them carefully, slower than Papyrus would have liked but he doesn't remark on it. 

 

       In mostly silence, Papyrus cooks up some pancakes while Frisk continues to slice up some strawberries. It is nice just cooking in the kitchen. Frisk's messy bedhead bounces as they hum along to a silly tune Papyrus couldn't quite place. It creates a nice background noise as he sets another pair of finished 'cakes on a plate.

 

       When Frisk is finished cutting the strawberries, they gather up the fruit in a bowl. Before they can move it, a long set of phalanges swipe it out of reach. The human looks up with a confused expression before being booped on the nose with some pancake mix. With a giggle, they wipe it off on their sleep shirt. Oh well, Papyrus is going to do laundry later this week anyways.

 

       " **I'll put this on the table. Go get the lazybones out of bed. He can't sleep the entire morning away, even if he thinks he can.** " With another giggle from Frisk, they set off back towards the eldest Serif's room before Papyrus begins to set the table. From the low rumble and high pitched responses, he can tell Sans is teasing Frisk. Not a moment later, a shriek followed by laughter fills the apartment. Frisk is running full speed towards him but is stopped as Sans tackles them to the ground, raining an entourage of tickles upon the helpless human. Frisk, one hand pushing against his brother's face the other reaching out for him, pleads through breathless laughter.

 

       "Pap-pyrus save mee-eeee!" 

 

       " **You got yourself into that situation, get yourself out.** "

 

       "Y-you told meeee to w-wake him u-up!"

 

       " **Not my problem.** "

 

       Papyrus merely steps over the two flailing bodies and continues setting up breakfast. Cries of anguish turning to squeals is the human's response as Sans relentlessly continues his tickle barrage.

 

       The table is mostly set at this point, minus the actual food, so he guesses he could help out his fallen helper. In one swoop of his long arms, he has both Sans and Frisk under each arm. Plopping them down aside from one another, he sets to grabbing what breakfast items he has left to transfer to the table. While he can't see it, he can practically _feel_ the funny faces they're making at each other behind his back. Turning around, they both seemed very interested in the wood grain on the table, avoiding his gaze.

 

       " **Dig in.** "

 

       With a sigh, he places the last dish on the table and sits down at the head of the square table. Feud temporarily forgotten, both Frisk and Sans go to town piling up their plates with the pancakes, bacon, and hash browns. Scarfing the breakfast down, Papyrus wonders if either of his company are even breathing between bites. While Papyrus himself doesn't enjoy overly sugary foods, Frisk has no qualms about piling on the strawberries, whip cream and syrup on their stack of 'cakes. Sans more-or-less is shoveling down the bacon. From the looks of the scene in front of him, one would think they haven't eaten in months from the rate at which the food is disappearing.

 

       He eats slowly and actually managed to grab the last pile of hash browns through the feeding frenzy. What prompted the sudden attack on carbs is unknown to the taller skeleton, but he does try to eat his portion quickly before his plate becomes the next victim of the ravenous assault.

 

      With breakfast devoured, two very content layabouts sit at the table doing nothing, to which Papyrus has had enough of after about 5 minutes of inactivity.

 

       " **Alright! I cooked, _you_  both get to clean!**" A range of protests meet the statement, but Papyrus isn't having any of their excuses. " **If you were energetic enough to consume enough food to feed a small colony of Vulcan, you have enough energy to clean up after yourself.** "

 

       " **c'mon bro, you're _bacon_ my heart here**."

 

       " **Sans don't soil my morning with more of your puns.** "

 

       " **what? i'll have you know my puns are** _ **eggcellent.**_ " Sans shoots his brother a wink.

 

       " **Sans-** "

 

       " **i _mustard_   ** **admit, i put a lot of work into** **em.** "He says all this while holding up a bottle of Heinz that wasn't on the table before.

 

**"SANS!"**

 

* * *

 

      It takes longer than usual to actually get his brother to clean any of the dishes. Frisk, the angel they are, was sneakily collecting the dishes from the table and putting them into the sink to soak. When the boys broke out of their bubble, Frisk was putting away some of the left over ingredients. Papyrus promptly walks over, picks them up, than plops them outside of the kitchen before replacing them with Sans. If Papyrus had to put it into words, it would be like the human saying about "herding cats." Based off his experiences so far with cat  _monsters_ , he'd have to say it was quite the understatement.

 

       But nonetheless, the dishes get cleaned and so does the rest of the kitchen. Now Papyrus can commence into Phase Two of his plan. Sans just finishes drying his hands and starts to head back to his room when he is hoisted up several feet in the air by the back of his shirt.

 

       " **whoa** **paps, what's the _hold up?_** _"_   Papyrus flicks San's nasal ridge in response.

 

" **Quiet Sans! This is serious. I need your help.** " Sans simply tilts his head, so he continues, lowering his voice the best he can. " **You were the one who pointed out Frisk's woes to me and we both know something is bothering them. I feel like we owe it to them to help with whatever they are struggling with. And besides..."** He takes a moment to swallow his pride, taking a deep breath before admitting " **...you are better at talking to Frisk than I am.** "

 

       Sans looks surprised at him; if he had eyebrows Papyrus is sure they would be off his face by now. Neither speak as they both look over to where Frisk is now situated on the couch, sketchbook and pencil in hand as they doodle away. They're wearing a beat up set of headphones that Sans lent them, jamming to the old cassette tapes salvaged from the dump. Ever since Sans dug that old thing out from all their boxes during the move, Frisk has latched on tightly and refused to let go. Perhaps it was a nice constant to keep them grounded. S _tars above_ did they need some comfort with all the political stress going on.

 

       Sans pats Papyrus's arm and is set down on the cold kitchen tiles. His expression is hard to read as he stares at the space between them. Papyrus can't really do anything, aside from stand and wait for an answer. He hopes Frisk doesn't turn and see the two standing here, then the whole operation could be thrown to the wind! To his delight, after what seemed like an eternity, Sans claps his hands together and looks back up at him.

 

       " **...ok paps. i got a plan, but it's gonna some take time. the kid needs to be eased into it. don't push them.** " Sans offers. 

 

       " **No, of course I won't! You know I wouldn't do that!** "

 

       " **exactly. i know you wanna help bro, but let me take care of 'em for now**." 

 

       " **Hmm.** " Papyrus didn't think this plan would be going in this direction. He was expecting something more forward, but looking back at the situation that doesn't seem like the _best_ course of action with Frisk. He wants to help, he  _really_ does, but confronting people immediately is all he's really good at. Sans is the more subtle one of the two brothers. Papyrus grumbles and scowls at the floor before huffing out a reply. " **Fine, but you better keep me informed! This was _my_ plan after all."**

 

 **"** **of course!** " Sans merely smiles at him before shooting him a wink. Without any more words the older Serif disappears from sight, leaving Papyrus standing in the kitchen alone. Letting out a breathe he didn't know he was holding, he creeps to the edge of the kitchen and sticks his head out from the wall. Frisk seems oblivious to the conversation that just took place, focused wholly on drawing. Their hair is still a mess and the headphones only worsen it, making it stand up like a duck tail. Sneaking up behind them, he very carefully places his jaw on top of their head. Startled, they look up quickly but visibly relaxe when they see Papyrus smirking at them. Frisk quickly pulls the headphones down and turns their body to face him to the best of their ability.

 

       "Hey Papy! Can I show you what I drew?"

 

       " **If you must.** " With a delighted smile, Frisk sets to showcasing what they have been so intensely working on. They are so animated and excited that Papyrus can't help but share their excitement as they go into great detail.

 

       If waiting for Sans to get them to open up means more moments like this in the future, than Papyrus guesses he can withhold for now. Even if it irks him to no end to remain stay idle.

 

       Anything for his family.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for stopping by! Feel free to leave a comment if you have any feedback or questions for me, I will reply as soon as humanly possible.
> 
> If you are interested in updates for when I post, feel free to follow my tumblr:
> 
> https://www.tumblr.com/blog/imlostontheinternet
> 
>  
> 
> Have a wonderful day! :)


	4. If You Can't Be Nice, Just Leaf Me Alone!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You wander through the forest trying to find out where the government wants you to go. Along the way, you take a trip down memory lane before you get interrupted in the strangest of ways.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apologies for the wait, summer camp caught up to me before I could post this (._.)
> 
> I hope this didn't move too fast in this chapter, but I wanted to get something out for you guys!

      All the stress from the past months must have been catching up to you. As you feel yourself being pulled from the embrace of sleep, you take notice that the sun is higher in the sky than it should be. Your eyes are burning by the sheer brightness surrounding you. Sitting upright, you look over the sea of dandelion flowers. White seeds tickle your legs and hands as you run a hand through them. Yawning, you stretch the best you can while remaining sitting for just a while longer. While you sit and enjoy the pleasant breeze in the warm air, your mind wanders back to the letter in your pocket for the nth time.

 

      Those so-called "special abilities" the government asked for aren't all that unique to you, given the fact that you were well used to them now. However, for non-magic folk it must be pretty startling to see if you're not prepared for it. Even so, at times _you_ marveled at the magic flowing within you. While you did have more magic than a regular human, it wasn't quite on the same level of that of a mage. No, werewolf magic is more connected to nature and instinct than to logic and reason. To change into your wolf form, it takes an immense amount of magic to do so. Transfiguration magic is immensely difficult to learn, so it's no wonder that mages were in envy at how easily it came to your kind. Because of the great amount of magic it takes to change, all that magic builds up over time, turning werewolves into living magic amplifiers. That's why all of your senses are super heightened as well. At times you radiate so much excess magic that you could power a large generator on sheer willpower alone. You remember reading in a book once that during war times, it was a great way to keep mages energized by pairing them with a werewolf. The energy and morale would spread like wildfire and soon an unstoppable force was headed towards the enemy. 

 

      It makes sense for the government to call you in for the search of Frisk. Maybe they were thinking of pairing you with a mage to find your nibling? If that were the case, you can only hope to have one that isn't a closed minded bigot.

 

      As you stand from your laying spot, it's hard not to notice the ring of white dandelions that bloomed around your sleeping form. Working overtime must be pumping way more magic through you than normal. It was annoying at times, to be honest. If you had an extremely large amount of excess magic built up in your system, you would break out into a terrible fever and _need_ to "change" before your body dissolved from the sheer amount of magic. Most of the time, your body would change on it's own if there was such a large buildup. It takes a lot of self control to avoid changing at that stage, or a lot of stress for that matter.

 

      You just hope that it won't come to that.

 

      Wiping the dirt off your jeans, you reach for the letter in your pocket. Taking out the envelope, you pull out the second paper with instructions on where to meet up for the search. The page is mostly covered in scratched out lines of the steps you've already completed. On the bottom of the page, a set of coordinates are circled in various pen colors from past examinations of the instructions.

 

40.3908° N, 111.6458° W

 

      Following the numbers are more lines of instructions, saying what to do and who to meet when you get there, that you had almost memorized at this point. The instructions were vague and sketchy, like all things the government got involved in, but at the moment it's your best lead. It is true your checked all around Mt. Ebott on your journey you still couldn't find Frisk’s scent. While it was true a person smell changes over time, a solid base smell sticks to each individual regardless of how much they may change physically. You chalk it up to going nose blind to their scent thanks to all the magic buzzing around. At least, you really hope it's just that, you can't bare the alternative.

 

      Shoving the papers back into your pocket, you make your way across the field to the depths of the forest. The previous night you had decided to stow away your bag to avoid bears so now all you have to do is retrieve it. The walk's a bit longer than you recall from the previous night, but you don't mind the exercise. Turning right at a familiar fork in the path, you walk for a while longer and see a positively ancient tree towering over the path. You grin at the sight, appreciating the magnificent beauty in front of you. Shadows cast by the leaves dance on your skin as you approach the base of the trunk.

 

      At the base you climb up to the fourth branch up. A hole is seated among the bark. Digging through it, you feel around until your hand touches a familiar leather strap. Smiling like a madman, you pull at it and extract your satchel you had placed for the night. Before you can move any further though, a small visitor sits on top. The contrast of dark and light browns makes you guess he's a zebra jumping spider. They aren't uncommon around Mt. Ebott, but seeing one is still cool nonetheless.

 

      “Sorry little guy, I just need my bag. There ya go!” Very carefully, you nudge him back into the hole. Thanks to your enhanced vision, you can see him lift one of his little legs like a wave. Giggling, you offer a small wave in return before climbing back down the tree.

 

      Once on solid ground you take a moment to look over the much beloved satchel. It was a gift from one of your mage friends, Trent, up in the Northern Country. It was a parting gift as you left on your journey to find Frisk. Having a **patient** soul, he specializes in crafting goods and _stars above_ doeshe love to create! You remember the flush on his face as he held it out to you, hands shaking from nervousness. Being the dork he is, Trent enchanted it to have almost no limits on storage space just like Mary Poppins’ carpet bag. Thumbing over the intricate design pressed into the leather, you feel a sense of longing for your friend. Maybe after all this was over, you can take Frisk to go visit him.

 

      Unbuckling the worn straps you open it up to find the familiar void staring back at you. You don't have too much knowledge of how the void works, but from what Trent told you he had enchanted it so it was sectioned off from the rest of the dark abyss. That way, you won't have to worry about losing anything. It doesn't make too much sense to you, but you know better than to question the intricacies of magic. Heck, your very existence is a magical intricacy that shouldn't exist so what the heck? The plus of having the void to your disposal is that the bag weighs almost nothing, so you didn't have to worry about what you pack. Out of muscle memory, you stick a hand in and feel around to the left. Last time you checked, the GPS was by the utensils. . . Aha! There it is, the little bugger! Pulling it out, the familiar interface beams up at you as you switch it on. Calibrating it will take a moment, so you feel around again and pull out a little baggie of magical candies.

 

      These are saved for emergencies, for when your self healing capabilities aren't enough. However, there’s nothing wrong with sneaking one or two before hitting the trail again. And that’s what you do, the sweet butterscotch melting over your tongue and filling your system with that familiar buzz. You toss the candies back into your satchel before taking a seat on a fallen log. The GPS is still doing it's own thing so you lean over and draw shapes in the dirt with your fingers. The motion is therapeutic and you find yourself doodling a recognizable troublemaker after a moment.

 

      Frisk's crazy hair and dorky smile looks back up at you in the dirt. If you focus hard enough, you swear you can hear their adorable chuckle echoing in your ears. You don't realize just how much you miss the gremlin, even after all this time. Droplets of water distort the image as tears stream down your cheeks. You don't make any noise, opting to sit and silence and simply let them flow. It's kinda nice to just sit here and cry. It isn't like those heart wrenching tear fests you had when you had first gotten the letter saying Frisk had disappeared. So much despair and anger gave you an almost constant, terrible headache that only worsened your mood. These tears are different though, as you don't feel your sinuses getting stuffy or your chest heaving painfully. It is still just as salty, you have to admit, but a little salt didn't hurt nobody.

 

 _Breeep! Breeep!_ The GPS breaks you out of your cry session. You quickly wipe off your face before taking a look at the little device in your hands. According to the screen, you have a good hike ahead of you. That's alright with you, the extra time can help you familiarize yourself with the land again. It takes a moment to get on your feet again but you manage to do so without pitching forward. With a few swipes, you cover over the drawing with your foot and throw some rocks over the area to make it look untouched.

 

       The forest surrounding Mt. Ebott may or may not be _kinda off limits_ and you aren't too sure that a letter warranting your help in a search party could cover up you treading on government property cut off to the general public. The last thing you need is a random forest ranger finding the drawing and somehow tie it to you poking around where your nose isn't wanted because karma is _ever_ _so kind_ to you as of late.

 

With your traces covered up to your liking, you finally set out to follow the coordinates on your reliable GPS. You can only hope that you'll _actually_ make some ground this time. As you pick your way carefully through the foliage, a tune pops into your head. Bubbling up from your lips, the melody occupies the quiet air, acting as a great distraction for the trek ahead.

 

* * *

 

     Climbing through the woods takes a good portion of the day. The sun has moved through the sky and now rests on it's way back down the horizon, the sky shifting from blue to yellows and reds. You didn't mind the hike too much, the extra time used to allow yourself to become reacquainted with Mt. Ebott's forest. It was like riding a bicycle, the memories stowed away in the back of your mind until they're needed once more. It's like a real life equivalent of a walk down memory lane.

 

     Near the base of the large mountain you had passed a mostly hidden grove which you and your friends would sneak out to and play in in your younger years. Lots of scars and sprained wrists came from that grove, though still you didn't regret any of them. It's overgrown from lack of use now, the small space between trees that served as an entrance nearly closed off to the world. Further along your journey, you had passed by an outcrop of rocks where you remember taking Frisk to go stargazing with when they got overwhelmed. You had lovingly dragged a hand over the warm rocks before continuing on your task. Later, you passed by a tree that you had engraved your initials on, as well as Frisk's, with a line tallying your current height. The marks were mostly covered up by moss now, but you still run a hand over the indentations. You're sure to put the moss back over the marks, adding a bit more that had fallen onto the trunk for good measure.

 

     So many familiar sights and sounds help to ease you back into your comfort zone, your defenses dropping slightly with each rekindled memory. Coming back to the present, you munch idly on a sandwich from the void satchel and take note of your progress to the mystery coordinates. From the looks of things, you're about three-fourths of the way there. The increasing roar of water alerts you to another familiar sight, a river that runs across your path. Stepping out from the dense bushes, mud squishes between your toes in the wet earth surrounding the moving water.

 

     The river itself is quite wide, spanning at least forty feet across at it's widest. Looking up and down the length of the water to see if you could possibly create a makeshift bridge out of the local flora, you find that all of trees closest to the shore are too small to cover the distance. Plus, you don't really feel like tearing up a tree when you can just cross the river and dry off later. There's still a decent amount of sun in the sky so you don't worry too much about getting cold.

 

     You find a mostly dry boulder to sit on and begin rolling up the cuffs of your pants. For good measure, you roll them up to about your knees before hopping down from the rock. You place the GPS into your satchel for safe keeping and tighten the strap to make it smaller. Stepping into the river, the cool mountain water rushes over your feet, tickling them when they meet with the silt at the bottom. Soft sediment is disturbed by your movements, making small clouds of brown billow up by your feet. You bare the cold and take another step, then another, and another until your find a comfortable rhythm to walk to. 

     

It isn't so bad, your feet are acclimating to the sudden temperature difference quite well. The round rocks are covered in moss, making you slip here and there while fighting against the current. Your deliberate with your next steps, doing your best to keep dry while avoiding being splashed by the water hitting the rocks. As you cross, the water is suddenly up to mid thigh and rising slowly. You switch the satchel from your hip to above your head as you shimmy past some river fish swimming past your legs.

 

     About midway across the river, you feel a spike in magic so intense on instinct you all but yeet the satchel to the next riverbed before diving under the water. A rush of cold overtakes you before an electric blue spear stabs through the water in front of you. Pushing to the left, you resurface and barely dodge another spear thrown your way. It skims the water, barely missing your head, before sticking itself in the river bottom.

 

     Finding your footing on the slick rocks, you summon as much strength as you can in your legs and leap out of the water onto the shore. You don't account for the slickness of your now doused clothes and slip when you make impact with the ground. It's a good thing you did because a volley of spears flies over head not a moment after you hit the ground. Pushing your wet hair back, you scramble to where your bag lays, mostly unscathed. However, as you reach for the strap a flash a blue catches it, spearing the poor thing to a neighboring tree. You slap the ground too late and let out a growl of your own before righting yourself.

 

     Your mind is racing over where your assailant could be hiding and to your dismay the intensity of the magic around you is making your nerves buzz like crazy, so much so it’s hard to get your bearings. You groan inwardly at the cause of the feeling.

 

 _Why is it always the disorienting magic!_ You think as you quickly scanning the treeline. From the corner of your eye, you see a tall figure hidden in the shadows of the trees, an electric blue glow flicking into existence. Standing to your full height, you cup your hands around your mouth and shout as loudly as you can muster.

 

      “Can you not try to kill me please!?” In response, you get another volley of spears in your direction. You dodge them easier now that your expecting them and continue to try to persuade your assailant to cease.

 

      “Let's just talk it out, yeah!?” Another volley, this one grazing your right leg. The sting is instantaneous and causes you to buckle for a moment before you're suddenly tucking and rolling. Warm blood trickles down your calf and mixes in with the now abundant amount of mud caking your wet clothing. In desperation, you call out one last time.

 

      “STOP IT!” At the next wave of spears, you decide that chatting wasn't going to cut it, so you had to come up with a new plan. It's a very laborious task trying to weigh out your options while dodging spears in wet, muddy clothes. This not only frustrates yourself, but your attacker as well. You can hear them growling in frustration as you continue to evade the spears while being weighed down by muk. While you could most likely keep dodging for a while, you honestly don't want to chance slipping again and ending up skewered.

 

      Ducking to avoid being stabbed, an idea pops into your head so crazy it just might work. You shoot upright and put your hands in a "come get me" motion before calling out to them.

 

      "Is that all you've got?" Sure enough, your attacker lets out a scream as throw one large spear at your chest. Before it can make impact, you twist around and grab the shaft of the spear. Your palms sting from the sudden friction and threaten to open but your force them to keep holding on. Using the momentum of the throw, you spin around a few times before suddenly releasing it back towards it's owner. This catches your attacker off guard, the figure stumbling before falling on their back. You let out a laugh in disbelief, slumping in relief.

 

_Holy cow, it actually worked!_

 

      “WHAT!?” Turns out you weren’t the only one surprised at the movement. Stepping, or more or less stomping, out of the shadows you finally get a good look at your attacker. From the sheer volume of magic pouring out from them, you know that you're in the presence of a Boss Monster. While most of the world remains oblivious to the existence of monsters, you on the other hand (being a sort-of-magical-creature yourself) knew how to identify one, and boy did this one know how to fight.

 

      Wearing armor that accentuates their curves, yet still remains extremely practical, they have a very powerful silhouette. Obsidian black armor with accents of silver and red caught your eye and, if they weren't just trying to turn you into a pincushion, you would admit they have some style. Spikes adorning their shoulders and gauntlets make them look like something out of a MMORPG. With no helmet, you’re met with the face of an extremely pissed of fish woman? From that killer cat-eye and bold eye shadow, you get the feeling that this monster isn’t used to being thwarted by others. Her long red hair is done up in a ponytail, side swept bags tucked behind his side fins in place of where ears would normally be. Her deep blue skin has red gills on her neck, standing out dramatically. With a killer set of sharp teeth set in a frown, she looks at you with a big yellow eye, the other covered by an impressive looking eye patch.

 

      With her being distracted, the disorienting magic fades away quickly. This causes your senses to return in an overwhelming rush. With a surge of your heightened senses returning, you get a decent impression of how your assailant feels about you.

 

 _Frustration. . ._ _Anger. . ._ _Confusion. . ._ _Intrigue?_

 

      You raise up from your slumped posture and try to make yourself look imposing. Being caked in mud with no shoes on probably doesn't look the most intimidating, but you honestly try.

 

      Looking upward, you find yourself making eye contact with the boss monster. She glares down at you, clearly a power move but you didn't let up. You meet her gaze with the same intensity, perhaps even more so. She comes to a stop in front of you, staring without saying anything. The tension is so thick you can practically feel it manifesting around you. It's honestly getting a bit uncomfortable just having a staring contest after you were almost made into a living shishkebab. Deciding to make the first move, you smile and say the first thing that comes to mind.

 

      “Your magic s’kinda pretty to be honest, love the blue.”

 

      . . .

 

      . . .

 

      . . .

 

_Damn your inclination to flattery!_

 

      Her brows furrow as she leans towards you, her face getting ever so closer to yours. Still, you refuse to take a step back from her obvious attempts to deter you which results in your face being about six inches away from the monster's. It didn't help that she's at least a foot taller than you, so the power play is definitely in her hands. Without the opportunity to react, she grabs the front of your shirt, lifting you to her height. Your dirty feet dangle in the air, giving you the perfect opportunity to strike, but you don't. Simply letting yourself be lifted up, you let your arms hang limp at your sides while the fish lady huffs angrily at you.

 

      “ _Who are you?_ ” Her voice drips with venom as she searches your face. You put your hands up in a "I surrender" motion while turning your head to the side, maintaining eye contact with the monster. She smelled strongly of salt and your nose was burning from the over stimulation, so you needed a breather. Conjuring the most sarcastic voice you can muster, you shrug and answer the monster.

 

      “Someone who doesn’t like their personal bubble invaded. Now, who are _you?”_ You shoot back with the same venomous tone. The monster looks taken aback before mimicking your response.

 

      “Someone who doesn’t like smart alecks. Now _punk_. . .” She straightens to her full height and pulls you uncomfortably close to her face, “. . .you _do_ know that this part of the forest is a restricted area, so you’re not allowed to be in here, correct? You’ve got a minute to explain yourself.”

 

      Despite wanting to sock this armored jerk in the jaw, you keep it contained as you point to where your satchel has been speared against an oak tree from earlier.

 

      "Credentials in there if they haven't been destroyed by your extreme handling. Letter explaining why my butt's out here is in my back pocket." You expect her to release you to grab your things, but she simply reaches around you and gets the letter  _herself_. Now, you typically don't mind the sparse embrace (or butt touch) but you are  _very not comfortable_ with a possible  _murderer_ rummaging around near your hiney. "Ey! Hands of the goods there pal!"

 

      You don't get a response other than the feeling of wet paper being dragged out from your pocket. Holding you in one hand, she flips open the soggy paper and reads the smudged ink. Inwardly you hope that she knows whoever the letter was addressed from and isn't just going to end your existence the moment she sees something she doesn't like. As she reads the page, you slowly lift your hands to where your shirt is balled up in her fist. You think:

 

 _If I can just force her fingers back, that_ should _give me enough time to book it out of here._ You barely skim the cool skin on the monster's hand before they turn their attention back toward you. In a rushed movement, you move your hands in to a shrug.

 

      “There’s my credentials. If _that’s_ all you need, care to let me go about my business?” You bat your eyes at her for extra affect. Her expression mirrors how annoyed you feel as she ignores you and looks over the paper once more. After a moment, her face changes from her typical pissed off look to one of disbelief before finally landing on pure shock. Both her hands grip painfully at your shirt collar as she looks to you quickly. Not knowing what warranted the reaction, you put your hands up in a “calm down” motion, ready to throw hands if need be, but no such need arose. The next sentence she spoke couldn't have been more unexpected if it tried.

 

      “YOU'RE RELATED TO FRISK???” She screams at you. With ringing eardrums, you stiffen at her remark and lift your eyebrow questioningly at her sudden interest of your personal life.

 

      “How do _you_ know _Frisk_?”

 

      “I asked first, _brat_ !” Ooh, that's  _really_  testing your restraint. You grab a fistful of the bottom of your shirt to keep yourself from slapping the monster before answering.

 

      "Yeah, I am. Now answer me, _fish-”_ It looks as if she’s going to punch you into next week from the look on her face. She drops you and you barely manage not to land on your rear end while she scowls at you. You feel her magic checking your soul, to which you put a stop to real quick, mentally denying any access she may want. At the negative response to soul checking you, the fish monster growls at you to which you give her an even louder growl in response, one deep from your chest. You can smell another fight brewing and adrenaline rushes through your veins at the possibility of confrontation.

 

      However, before any other actions can be made, you notice a movement in the trees over her shoulder. A glint of metal shines from the dark woods. Instinctively, you shove her out of the way, shouting “Look out!” before feeling a sharp prick right over your heart. Cold shoots through your veins as you look down to see a syringe emptying its contents into you. In an instant, you feel yourself becoming drowsy. “Aw crap-”

 

      Falling in a heap, you barely manage to catch yourself to avoid slamming your head into the hard earth beneath you. The bright flashes of magic whirl past in your peripherals, followed by angry shouts all around you but you can’t make out the words.

 

      At the loss of your senses, you feel your pulse slowing down considerably.

 

      Oh no, the panic is setting in and you do _not_ appreciate it very much. Even with your declining heart rate, the familiar wave of nausea fills your throat but you can’t even find the ability to dry heave you’re so far gone. Your thoughts jump all over the place as you lay on the ground, trying to come up with an answer you don't know.

 

      Is this a set up? No, you didn’t sense anything other than animosity from the monster. . .and it looks as if someone was trying to shoot at _her_ before you jumped in the way _. . ._ What was happening right now?

 

      You barely register being lifted into the air or suddenly being carried as trees whip past you. As your heart slows, you try to will yourself to stay conscious, but to no avail. The numbness filling your senses is too welcoming. The numbness is a release from the panic, a release from the world. Against your better judgement, you let it take you.

 

      While you fade away, a certain fish monster is increasingly panicking while hightailing it out of the surprise ambush she neglected to notice. She's also panicking because she chose to fight the only _living_ relative of the Monster Ambassador and it ended up with you taking a bullet for her.

 

      Could anything else go wrong?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another cliff hanger! I'm terrible, aren't I?
> 
> ♪~ ᕕ(ᐛ)ᕗ
> 
> I haven't given up on this story, I just have terrible time management skills. I will strive to get a more even updating schedule, though I am traveling out of town in July and won't be back for a month. I also have another story in the works (that I haven't posted it yet) so if you're an edge fan then stay tuned!
> 
> If you are interested in updates for when I post, feel free to follow my tumblr:
> 
> https://www.tumblr.com/blog/imlostontheinternet
> 
> \--------
> 
> Thank you for stopping by! Feel free to leave a comment if you have any feedback or questions for me, I will reply as soon as humanly possible.
> 
> Have a wonderful summer! (:


	5. **Author's Note/ Update on Story**

       Hello to all of my wonderful readers! I do apologize for just ghosting you all. After I had my summer vacation, my family was hit by some major problems and I've been unable to update because of them. This actually made me rethink a lot about how I wanted to write and how I manage my time.

       

      Now, to get straight to business, I think I've already veered off from my original ideas for the story and I would like to retry writing this story. In doing this, I would still use this account, just make a new work under the same name. I will still keep this one up until I have the more updated story posted and taken care of. Most everything will stay the same, I just feel like my pace and use of tense are all over the place. So to create a better reading experience for you guys, I want to retry.

 

       I  _really_ want to flush out this concept and I want you guys to feel the same amount of giddiness that I do when I think about throwing in a Werewolf into the world of Monsters. I hope you guys aren't to upset with this decision, but I think it's for the best if this story is going the root I want it to go. this will most likely take up to a month or two if things are in my favor.

 

       Thank you for reading my story and I will keep you posted on when the new updated story is posted! 


End file.
